


Will I Ever See You Again?

by shadowsamurai



Category: Waking the Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Meetings, Friendship, Gen, Pre-Canon, Songfic, Subtext
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-01
Updated: 2012-07-01
Packaged: 2017-11-08 22:43:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/448372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowsamurai/pseuds/shadowsamurai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>20 years before working together, Boyd and Grace met, albeit briefly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Will I Ever See You Again?

**Author's Note:**

> Set around 20 years before the pilot. All lyrics used are from Lenny Kravitz's song 'Again'.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, I'm just borrowing things for a while and I promise I'll put everything back exactly how I found it when I've finished. Well, almost exactly how I found it. ;)

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

Peter Boyd stared around his flat and sighed. He would have preferred a house, but as he was still single, with no children he knew of, a flat was more than big enough for him. He ran a hand through his black hair and stared at the boxes, wondering where the hell to start. He didn't have many possessions - his job kept him away from 'home' most of the time, and Boyd found his flat was just somewhere to sleep. He often thought a woman's touch would be nice, but he had yet to find someone to put up with him.

Boyd was pleasant enough in small doses, but he also knew he was a hot-headed arrogant bastard at times. He gave a short wry laugh when he thought about his job; he wondered how the hell he hadn't been fired before now.

Boyd decided the first thing to do was to plug the stereo in and find a decent radio station, as all his CDs were in a box somewhere. That task accomplished, he started to unpack the kitchen equipment.

A while later, he heard a knock on his door, and he frowned. "This had better not be work," Boyd grumbled to himself. He'd taken two weeks off for some well-earned rest and to settle into his new place, although he knew after a few days, he'd be itching to get back to his job.

Boyd opened the door and any greeting he was about to issue disappeared on the wind. Standing there was a woman shorter than him, but not by too much, and with a figure that could only be described as curvy. She had wavy brown hair that reached her shoulders, and the most brilliant blue eyes he had ever seen. She was dressed in clothes that weren't exactly expensive, but screamed 'good taste'; a long brown flowing skirt, and a dark green sequined top, nothing too tight, but that accentuated her figure.

Boyd's gaze was drawn back to her eyes. There was steel there, as well as compassion, and a great amount of intelligence. He knew this woman was serious about her job, and that her job was something serious.

*I've been searching for you  
I heard a cry within my soul*

Grace was rendered equally as speechless by the man in front of her. He was tall and big-built, and she could tell it was all muscle. His black hair was short, but not too short, and his eyes were almost black. They seemed hard, unfeeling, but she saw that he was guarding his emotions, afraid of opening himself up. He was dressed in a deep blue shirt and dark trousers; Grace knew that his clothes were reasonably expensive, and that he liked to look nice, but she guessed he'd never admit that.

"Hi," Boyd said, smiling.

Grace was blown away by that smile; it altered his face completely, and she couldn't remember the last time she felt like this about a man.

"Hi," she replied, unleashing her own unknowingly devastating smile.

*I never had a yearning quite like this before  
Now that you are walking right through my door*

"Peter Boyd," he said, holding his hand out.

"Grace Foley," she replied, taking the outstretched limb. His grasp was surprisingly gentle, and his hands felt soft but strong under her fingers.

"Is there a title that goes with that?" Boyd asked in a slightly mischievous tone.

The tone wasn't lost on Grace, who decided to play along. *'Who knows?'* she thought. *'This might actually be fun.'* "Such as?"

"I don't know. Mrs, Miss, Ms," Boyd said, noting the way she shuddered at the latter. "Or maybe Dr."

"Very good," Grace replied, inclining her head. Her assumption of his intelligence was right. "And what about you? Other than Mr., of course."

He smiled. "What do you think, Dr.?"

"I would say you're a policeman, plains clothes, not a DS any more. A DI, perhaps?"

Boyd grinned and Grace felt her knees weaken slightly. "Would you like to come in, Grace? I'm afraid I haven't got much to offer, but I think I can manage a cup of coffee and something to sit on."

They finally released each other's hands, seemingly unaware they'd held on for so long. "I'd love to…do I call you Peter or Boyd?" Grace asked, moving past him.

Boyd stared incredulously after her, closing the door. "Are you a psychologist, by any chance?"

"Will you throw me out if I say yes?"

"Only if you try and analyse me," he replied, and Grace knew he was serious.

She shrugged. "I can't help it; it's in my nature as well as being my job."

"I'm sure you'll be able to control yourself." Boyd moved about the kitchen quite comfortably as he made coffee for them, and Grace watched him with interest. "So how long have you lived here, Grace?"

"How do you know I live here? I could be some kind of stalker," she replied, knowing banter like this with him would be acceptable, but not sure how she knew that

"You could be, but I doubt it," Boyd said, placing a mug in front of her. "Milk and sugar?"

"Milk, one sugar. Why don't you think I'm a stalker?"

"Because stalkers don't bring gifts," he replied.

"Oh."

"Besides, I heard the door across the hall opening."

Grace's eyes widened and she decided to call his bluff. "You did not!"

Boyd grinned. "No, I didn't, but as least now I know where you live."

Grace debated swatting him on the arm, but then realised she didn't know him well enough. Yet. So she settled for a witty retort. "I don't think you deserve these." She placed a bag of cookies on the counter.

Boyd's eyes widened slightly with something akin to childish delight. "For me?" Grace nodded, pleased by his sincere reaction. "Did you make these?" he asked in surprise as he took one out and bit into it.

"You know it's possible for a woman to be successful in the work place *and* in a domestic setting," Grace replied, somewhat more scathingly than she meant her answer to be.

Boyd didn't flinch. "Yes, I do know that. I've just yet to meet one who balanced both sides well."

So much was said in that simple statement, and Grace found herself smiling. "And I've yet to find a man who knew his way around the kitchen."

Boyd looked at her intently. "We're never going to say what we mean, are we?" he asked, surprisingly serious, and somewhat presumptuous.

"That's assuming we're still friends tomorrow," Grace replied lightly. "You might keel over from my cooking."

"I doubt that," Boyd said, scoffing another cookie. "And to answer your question, either Peter or Boyd is acceptable. People at work call me Boyd, but I'll leave the decision up to you."

Grace nodded and smiled again. "Okay, Boyd." She guessed that, for now, it was the safest option and it appeared to make him more relaxed.

They chatted for a few hours about work and their non-existent lives outside of their jobs. Grace found Boyd to be quite charming, but she could tell he had a quick temper, which reared its ugly head a few times during their conversation. But she just replied with even drier comments, and she could tell his respect for her grew each time she refused to back down.

Boyd could see Grace was a force to be reckoned, and he really wouldn't like to piss her off. He caught himself zoning out when she was talking, not because he wasn't interested in what she had to say, but because he found her so captivating to look at.

*A sacred gift of heaven  
For better worse wherever*

Grace found herself not wanting to leave Boyd, so she offered to help him unpack. Boyd was enjoying her company more than he expected to, so he directed her to some of the 'safer' boxes - the ones that didn't contain his clothes.

As Grace sorted through the books, she found herself becoming more and more confused with the enigma that was Peter Boyd. He had novels she expected him to have - crime, thriller, even horror - but there was the odd science-fiction, and even a romance. Then there were the non-fiction books; an assortment of wildlife tomes, anthropological volumes, even 'The Origin of Life' by Charles Darwin. But there was one that specifically caught her eye, and Grace had to read the cover twice to make sure it said what she thought it did.

It was one of her books, her first book, in fact.

Boyd stood leaning against the doorframe watching Grace. Her every minute movement spoke volumes to him, which was amazing as he was never much good at reading women. Not that he would assume he was right about the signals he was reading from her, but she seemed curious about his affects, even confused by them. And Boyd found himself confused by Grace in turn. He had only known her a few hours and yet he felt some sort of…connection with her.

"It's not polite to stare," Grace said, without turning round.

Boyd laughed, a deep sound that rumbled around his chest before escaping. "You're a smart lady, Grace."

She looked over her shoulder at him. "And you, Peter Boyd, are trouble."

"You haven't known me long enough to say that!" he protested, maybe a tad too much, and Grace told him so.

"The lady doth protest too much," she said, turning back to his books.

Boyd smirked. Silently he crossed the room, his stocking feet making no noise at all. He bent over slowly and tickled Grace on her ribs. She squealed loudly, making Boyd grin smugly.

"Never turn your back on me, Grace," he told her, holding her as she laughed. "You never know what I'll do next."

"Oh, I know that already," she replied, leaning backwards into his hands and looking up at him.

*And I would never let somebody break you down  
Or take your crown, never*

Boyd was smart enough to realise they were flirting; he just didn't know where to take things from there. But Grace seemed to take charge of the situation by pulling forward, away from Boyd's touch, but the smile she gave him reassured Boyd that he wasn't being rejected.

"Right, that's the books done. What's next?" Grace asked, rising to her feet unaided.

"Food, I think. I don't know about you, but I'm starving," Boyd replied.

"Well I'm not cooking for you," Grace told him. "I don't know you that well."

"Well, you didn't make the biscuits, so I'd be surprised if you cooked for me," he said, straight-faced.

Grace stared in surprise, and then swatted him lightly on the arm before laughing. "Oh, you *are* good."

"You have no idea," he murmured before saying, louder, "I'm a policeman, Grace." Boyd smiled. "Would you like to share a takeaway with me?"

For the first time since they'd met, Grace's face fell slightly. "I - I really should be getting back, actually. I've got to work tomorrow."

*I've searched through time, I've always known  
That you where there, upon your throne  
A lonely queen, without her king*

"O-okay," Boyd said, forcing the smile to stay on his face. He wasn't sure why he felt this way about a woman he'd only just met. It wasn't like him at all.

"Although," Grace murmured thoughtfully, touched by his expression, "I could just call in sick."

Boyd smile was genuine this time, and Grace thought it was a beautiful sight. "What would you prefer?"

"Anything except pizza. Red or white?"

"Whatever you've got." As he held the door to his apartment open while Grace popped back to hers, he couldn't help but chuckle at their little exchange; he understood her short-hand speech easily.

*I've longed for you, my love forever*

Boyd knew his feelings for Grace ran deep already, but was it love or just friendship? There was no denying that they clicked; she understood him in a way no one else ever had or even tried to. He knew he had a habit of pushing people away and he didn't want that to happen with Grace. He felt he'd actually found a true friend, and didn't want to lose her.

Grace reappeared with a bottle and a half of white wine. She wasn't sure how much Boyd could, or would, drink; she suspected he was something of a lightweight. When she had seen him moving him, she admitted to herself that she fancied him, just a little bit. He carried himself in a self-assured manner, but without being too arrogant, and Grace liked that. Now she'd spent the better part of the day talking to him, Grace realised she genuinely liked the man who was now her neighbour. Unfortunately, she still fancied him and that posed a problem. Boyd had only just moved in and Grace was certain he didn't see her as anything other than a new friend.

But then, after Boyd had closed the door behind her, he gave her such a gentle, sincere smile that Grace felt her heart melt. Was there a possibility that he saw her as more…as a woman?

They chatted more over dinner, both surprised that they found it so easy to talk to each other. The mood was only dented once, but Grace felt it was necessary to be honest with the man in front of her.

"In answer to your earlier question, I've lived here about three years, but I won't be here much longer."

Boyd looked surprised. "Was it something I said?"

Grace laughed. "No doubt that would be the case if I stayed longer."

"Ouch."

"No, I've been negotiating the price on a semi-detached house for a while now, and I'm expecting the final paperwork to be completed any time now."

"Well, I hope you'll be happy," Boyd said, smiling gently.

*I wonder if I'll ever see you again*

"I would offer to wash up," Grace said once they'd finished, "but I don't see any towels for drying."

"It's okay, I don't mind washing up." Boyd collected all the cartons and chopsticks and threw them into a bag. "There, all tidy again."

Grace just shook her head and laughed. "You're incorrigible."

"I don't know what that means, but thank you."

"You know full well what it means. The dumb act won't work with me, Detective Inspector."

"I didn't think it would, but it was worth a try." As Boyd stared into Grace's blue eyes, he felt he was a stone dropping through watery depths. He was falling for this woman, but it was too soon. It was too quick. He sighed and ran his hand through his hair.

Grace smiled, somewhat sadly, and reached across the table to take his hand. Somehow, she seemed to know what he was thinking.

Boyd lowered his gaze to her hand enclosing his and he felt his heart quicken slightly. Closing his eyes, he wished that this was the beginning of good times for him.

*All of my life  
Where have you been*

"I should go," Grace said softly, and this time Boyd knew she meant it.

"Thanks for your help today," he said as they stood at the door, Boyd in his apartment, Grace in the hall. "For making me feel welcome, for your company, and for the biscuits, even if they weren't homemade."

Grace smiled and shook her head. "You're welcome…Peter."

*And if that day comes  
I know we could win  
I wonder if I'll ever see you again*

Boyd waited until Grace had shut her door before locking his own apartment up. For a brief shining moment, his future had held some hope. For an instant, he was truly happy.

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

An emergency in the middle of the night took Boyd back to work, and he didn't get back home for forty eight hours. By the time he returned to his flat, he was exhausted, grouchy as hell, and starving, not to mention in desperate need of a shower. Deciding sleep was the most urgent thing, he collapsed on his bed fully dressed, his dreams haunted by sapphire blue eyes and soft brown hair.

Boyd woke up the next morning with a smile on his face, despite the fact that he hadn't seen Grace in the past two days. He showered, humming to himself, his bad mood having dispersed while he slept. It was only when he headed out to get some breakfast - he had yet to do some shopping because of the emergency at work - that he saw the piece of paper behind his door. Boyd was almost certain it hadn't been there when he came home the night before, but he couldn't be sure. Opening it and scanning for the signature, he saw it was from Grace.

*Dear* (the next word had been scribbled out, but he guessed Grace had written 'Boyd' first, then changed her mind) Peter,

*I've never been good at these things, so if this is a little all over the place, I hope you'll forgive me. The day after I met you, I got a phone call saying the house was mine. I was also told that I had to move out of my apartment as soon as possible as someone else wanted it. That's the trouble with renting, isn't it? I've knocked on your door several times over the past couple of days, but you must be working.

I wanted to see you before I left, but it seems it wasn't meant to be. Thank you for your company the other day, although I'm sure you'll insist it should be the other way around. I haven't enjoyed myself so much for a long time.

I said I wouldn't analyse then, and I won't now, but please let me say this: don't shut yourself away and don't bottle your emotions up. They'll destroy you if you do. That's not my professional opinion, that's just a bit of friendly advice.

Take care of yourself, Boyd,

Grace x

PS - Would you mind paying the milk man, please? He delivers on a Thursday to the entire block, around 10am. Thanks. I'll pay you back when I see you next.*

Boyd stared at the note, reread it, and then started laughing. "And how are we going to see each other unless you come to the police station? No forwarding address, nothing." He shook his head. "Women."

Boyd debated about where to put the note, and as he thought, he tapped it against his chin. A faint scent reached his nose, and a smile curled his lips as he realised it was Grace's unique smell.

Reaching a decision, Boyd folded the note carefully and put it a back compartment of his wallet. He thought that was the safest place for it. Humming to himself again, he left his apartment for some much needed shopping, his mind on his recently departed neighbour.

*I wonder if I'll ever see you again*

Peter Boyd smiled to himself again. His future still held hope, and he knew, whatever form their relationship might take if they ever met again, that hope resided with Grace Foley.

FIN


End file.
